Hillary. Clinton. Has. BREASTS!

You don't say! Unfortunately, someone did say. Robin Givhan from the Washington Post's Arts & Leisure section thought it was appropriate to make a news story out of Senator Clinton's cleavage.

She was wearing a rose-colored blazer over a black top. The neckline sat low on her chest and had a subtle V-shape. The cleavage registered after only a quick glance. No scrunch-faced scrutiny was necessary. There wasn't an unseemly amount of cleavage showing, but there it was. Undeniable.

Well, yes. Cleavage is an undeniable fact of life for many women. Not the woman currently typing this entry, but it is for many women. Later, Givhan goes from being overly dramatic about a little bosom to downright disgusted.

The cleavage, however, is an exceptional kind of flourish. After all, it's not a matter of what she's wearing but rather what's being revealed. It's tempting to say that the cleavage stirs the same kind of discomfort that might be churned up after spotting Rudy Giuliani with his shirt unbuttoned just a smidge too far. No one wants to see that. But really, it was more like catching a man with his fly unzipped. Just look away!

Bad, boobies, bad! Don't you go peaking out of Mommy's brasserie! You get back in there right now or I just might have to bind you girls down! And if Givhan can't write a piece about Clinton's breasts and also feel discomfort and have the urge to "just look away." Well, obviously she can, but not without looking stupid.